


friendship up against the ropes

by dancingloki



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 14:44:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14499276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancingloki/pseuds/dancingloki
Summary: so my friend sends me the song "Sidekick" by Walk The Moon out of the blue and I have like 16 WIPs but I'm too gay for self-control so now this is happening





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> all the smut is in the second chapter fyi

They tumble out of the movie theater into late afternoon sunshine, and Sam feels that moment of disorientation he always gets, like he’s been inside long enough for the sun to have gone down and he doesn’t understand why it’s not dark. Next to him, Bucky’s laughing like an asshole; the movie was _terrible_ , but they knew it would be terrible which is why Steve refused to go with them, because he doesn’t have any fucking appreciation for the finer things in life, like making ruthless fun of terrible movies with your best friend’s asshole of a best friend.

The sidewalk’s basically completely empty as they stroll down it, going back and forth, competing who can think of the absolute worst thing about the piece of crap they just sat through. Entirely too soon, they get to the corner where they have to part ways. Sam’s car is parked down the street in one direction; Bucky took the metro, and his station is the other way.

They linger at the corner just a little too long, both of them unwilling to be the one to end the conversation, and Sam’s going to go ahead and blame the weather for what happens next. It’s something in the air, it’s gotta be, putting stupid ideas in his head, because a big gust of wind comes up out of nowhere, and it knocks Bucky’s stupid hair out of his stupid bun. He’s always putting his long-ass hair up in these stupid messy buns, and now the wind’s pulled it loose, and it’s falling down in his stupid face, and he pushes it back with one hand and _smiles_ , right at Sam, just for him, like there’s some big fun special secret that’s just for the two of them, and the words slip right out his stupid traitor mouth before he can stop them.

“You wanna come back to my place for the night?”

That stupid goofy smile falls right off Bucky’s face, and he stares at Sam real slow and careful-like, considering.

“Come back to your place like how? Like what are you suggesting?”

If Sam was sensible, he’d take the out that Bucky’s offering here, and tell him, maybe, that he’s got the DVD of that action flick they were talking about the other day (which is true) and he just thought it might be more fun to watch it with somebody than by himself (which is also true) and then say something vague about how Bucky can crash on his couch if it gets too late for him to want to go home, but Sam’s not sensible, and there’s something in the air, and anyway Bucky’s stupid hair is back down in his stupid face again, so instead he just tells him, “You know exactly what I’m suggesting.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sam doesn’t know what happened to his keys. He thinks they’re still hanging in the lock of his front door. He’s not sure they closed the front door on their way in. He thinks he should probably go check on that, but Bucky’s knee is grinding up in between his legs and his tongue is as far inside Sam’s mouth as he can get without detaching it, so Sam has other priorities. It’s not like Sam’s got a lot of nice stuff to steal, anyway.

They stumble through a doorway and almost fall, and they must have taken a wrong turn in the hallway at some point, because they wind up in the kitchen instead of Sam’s bedroom. If Bucky notices, he doesn’t give a shit, any more than Sam does. Sam’s ass hits the cabinet with a hollow _thump_ , and they sink to the floor, still wrapped around each other.

Bucky’s fumbling at Sam’s jeans with both hands, trying desperately to get them undone, while Sam scrabbles at Bucky’s shirt, pulling it up to where it bunches around his shoulders under his arms. Bucky pulls back with a wet _pop_ and strips it off the rest of the way, tossing it back to join the trail of coats and shoes and Sam’s cashmere scarf that they left behind on their way into Sam’s house.

“Sweetheart, if I don’t get my mouth on you in the next thirty seconds I might die,” Bucky gasps, and finally manages to get the front of Sam’s pants open. He jerks them roughly down over Sam’s hips, taking his underwear with them, and it ought to hurt—it probably will burn just a little bit, once the adrenaline and the arousal wear off—but right now Sam just sees Bucky’s pink lips and the tip of his pink tongue poking out to wet them before he leans down to take Sam into his mouth.

His position is awkward—the whole thing is awkward—Sam sprawled with his legs open and his jeans around his thighs and his bare ass on the cold floor, Bucky crouched down like a frog with his legs all hunched up underneath him and his hands gripped under Sam’s knees, but awkward’s never stopped him before and he’s swallowing Sam’s dick down all the way, bobbing his head a little bit, the muscles in his shoulders rolling. Sam can feel him gag, feels knuckles tighten under his knees as Bucky forces himself through it. Bucky won’t back down, Sam knows that, not from this. It’s why they’ve been on this long-routed collision course ever since Steve introduced them, like a years-long game of chicken that was always gonna end right here, just like this, with them both collapsed on Sam’s kitchen floor and his cock down Bucky’s throat, feeling the vibration as he moans while he takes it.

Acting on impulse, he reaches out and grabs a fistful of Bucky’s stupid hair, pulls on it lightly, just experimenting to see how Bucky will react. Apparently he likes it, because his fists bear down under Sam’s legs tight enough to bruise, and he sucks down so hard that Sam loses his mind for a second, the heat and the pressure are too good.

He keeps his fingers tangled in Bucky’s hair, cradling the back of his skull in one palm. Rubbing little circles behind Bucky’s ear with one thumb, Sam closes his eyes, lets his head fall back against the kitchen cabinet.

Sam happens to peek down through his eyelashes at the same moment that Bucky looks up, lips still pressed against the tender skin of Sam’s groin, and their eyes meet, and Sam feels a jolt and a shudder start down in his lower belly that rolls through his body like a gentle wave. Bucky’s eyes snap shut again in concentration, focusing on not choking too badly as he swallows and swallows again.

He does gag a little as he settles back, easing gently up off Sam’s dick, and then he’s wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, him and Sam staring at each other wide-eyed like neither of them can believe that really just happened. Sam glances downward—couldn’t _not_ even if he wanted to—sees the front of Bucky’s pants bulging out—reaches out and grabs hold of his belt, hauls him forward into his lap. He’d let go of Bucky’s hair when he came, and now he takes hold of it again, tipping his head back to kiss him. Sam can taste his own come, bitter on Bucky’s tongue, and it’s just the right kind of wrong to make him wish he had the stamina he’d had as a teenager.

Bucky’s straddling his thighs and grinding himself desperately against Sam’s belly. Sam has to shove his hips back to get his hand in-between their bodies; he tugs open the front of Bucky’s pants and shoves his hand down the front of his shorts. Maybe it’s just because he’s so wound up, but it barely takes a touch—Sam barely has time to get his grip around Bucky’s dick before he feels it twitch, feels his whole body twitch, feels Bucky moan into his mouth as he coats the inside of his boxers in a sticky mess.

Their lips part and Bucky collapses, heavy on Sam’s torso, buries his face into Sam’s neck. Sam wraps his arms around Bucky’s waist, feels sweat rolling down his back. They’re both trembling, breath coming in hitching pants.

“So,” Bucky says eventually, sits up a little bit, damp hair brushing against Sam’s nose in a way that is absolutely _infuriating_ and makes Sam want to slam him down into the nearest mattress and ride him for _hours_. “We’re not tellin’ Steve about this, right?”

“Fuck no, are you kidding me?” Sam laughs, drops a gentle kiss on Bucky’s bare shoulder. “I mean, he’ll probably catch on if we make it a habit, but I’m not in any hurry to let him know.”

“Cool, so we’re on the same page. Um…” He sits back a little further on his haunches, balancing himself with his hands on Sam’s biceps. Sam is a bit shocked to see that he’s blushing faintly, and he’s shy, almost bashful, when he asks, “ _Are_ we makin’ this a habit? I mean, you want to?”

“Do _you_ want to?” Sam fires back, not trying to hide that it’s a challenge.

Bucky takes the bait. Not that it really counts as bait if you’re not trying to hide the hook, so it’s more like Bucky takes the bit, between his teeth and pushes into it, with that mulish set to his jaw that Sam loves to hate. “I want to if you want to.”

“Fine then.”

“Fine.”

They glare at each other for a couple of beats, mostly from sheer force of habit, before busting into giggles that lead to a tender kiss. Sam wants to move this to the bedroom; his ass is freezing cold on the linoleum, and he especially wants to go figure out where his keys are now that the muzzy haze of lust has died down to a dull hum, but he thinks his legs stopped working around the same time Bucky took his mouth off Sam’s dick.

Fortunately, Bucky has the same idea, and he stumbles to his feet, bracing himself on the counter, then reaches a hand down to Sam. Sam takes it, and Bucky hauls him up. He settles his jeans back up around his hips, loses his balance a little and Bucky catches him, one hand on his ribcage, that shit-eating grin back on his smug, stupid face.

“I hate you,” Sam tells him, and Bucky grins just a little bit wider.

“Feeling’s mutual, pal,” he says, and that’s it, that’s the end, Sam just knows right in that moment that he’s gonna be stuck with this asshole for the rest of his damn life. It’s your classic game of romantic chicken, and they’re both way too dumb and way too stubborn to ever back down.

Still, Sam can’t help but admit, he could do worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe now I can get this stupid song out of my head


End file.
